War in the west
Book one: King Samuel
In the great valley, surrounded by the many mountains, lie the two kingdoms. A long line of kings, descended from the dragon emperors of old, ruled each kingdom. Most of this valley was ruled by the ancient yellow city and its residents, the crown knights of western kingdom. These knights were a massive army, rulers of many cities, and in the minds of many the greatest knights of the world. It is in their capitol city that this story begins….
The great blue-and-gold flags of the Western Kingdom waved over the spectacular Gold City. In it’s center was a large dome with a huge tower extending from it. The dome was filled with people all of whom were watching a gladiatorial combat. The gladiators circled each other, stabbing at one another. One of the warriors sliced out with his sword and knocked over his opponent quickly. The overjoyed crowd, who stood up and poured into the arena to congratulate the victorious hero, cheered the knight. At the head of the crowd was a man well known and respected. The knight kneeled before the Emperor, who was dressed in a suit of shining gold, made to match the walls of the city. The king spoke in a grave voice.
“You must return to your city immediately. Your father has been killed.”

The city of Prentika was a contrast to the shining “yellow city”. Its flags were lowered and its citizens wore black as the returning knight entered the city via the main gatehouse. The soldiers signaled to him and he rode over to them on his stallion. He walked with them over to the forum, where the dead king lay on a slab in the center. The young knight looked down upon the still body and on that day he swore an oath. He swore that he would not die before his job was done.

Five years later The once-young king, Samuel the thunder-rider, rode toward the Golden city. Just five years ago it had stood shining and untouched by the wars around it. Now it was in a state of disrepair and the once great ancient “yellow castles” were fallen. Patrolling it were groups of war-hardened troops and knights. Samuel rode through the wrecked city until he reached the Citadel of the king. He entered through its great golden doors. Inside, the citadel was unchanged by the devastation that ravished the land and the Emperor and his lords sat at a feast, enjoying themselves while the people suffered. Samuel Thunder-Rider threw his sword down onto the table and shouted at the king. He accused him of leaving his people to die, he begged him to help his allies. The king merely stared at him unmoving and untouched. At last, Samuel Thunder-Rider, last of the ancient house of Thunder gave the king his last blow.
“If you help us, I will allow you to return to your old castles at Prentika.”
The Emperor looked up from his meal at last and a smile came onto his face.
“Very well, last of Thunder, you will receive the troops for which you ask. They will be in Prentika tomorrow to receive the castles and the surrounding land. If there was ever any hope for you I this war, it has now been doubled.”
Thunder gritted his teeth and prayed he had made the right choice.

Several Months later, on the fields near the base of Mount Drake

King Samuel of Prentika Lay low in a ditch while arrows and skeleton horses flew overhead. The blue-and-gold banner of the crown knights flew high over the army behind him, their silver chain-mail and metal helmets shining in the pale moonlight like lit up the shining blue lake nearby. The fields stretching long and far, they were unmarked seas of green until the war had come, tearing them up, splashing the green with the brown of the trenches and the red of blood. Great armies in colors of grey, silver, and black fought for control of this fertile area. If the fields were lost, then the Necromancer of Mount Drake would march upon the kingdoms of the men who fought against him. If they failed, all would be overrun by the horde, an army consisting of skeleton horses, ridden by undead monsters, like skeletons but distorted and twisted by the Dark Wizard, Orks, the foul beasts of the pits and the sea, and Goblins, the mine-thieves, the cave-dwellers. They must not fail.

Just then, the sun rose over the mountains, making them golden, red, and orange. The light revealed things that the king would remember till the day he died. The fields were aflame and hundreds of soldiers lay dead, face down in the ditches. Atop the corpses stood monsters, trolls, dragons, Orks, and skeletons. Flags flew through the air like torn rags, armor lay like garbage, and the horde marched past. The king was alone.

It was not till the sun was high that the king crept along the trench away from the field. He was careful not to let his silver armor shine in the light and equally careful to not let any horde members see him. At last he reached the edge of the fields. He was filled with relief and joy as his head rose out of the trench. Suddenly, his relief stopped. Standing before him on a black winged horse upon which sat a cross between a knight and a monster, with huge horns sticking a foot out of its helmet. It had huge, bat-like wings. Its dark spiked and armored hand reached down to him and it spoke it a deep, dark voice.
“Coming, Your Majesty?”

The King learned little about his rescuer on the return journey to Prentika. He had lost a lot of blood and was almost unconscious when the figure dragged him into a cave under the rocks. The monster-knight called out to someone within the cave.
“Come quick and bring the medical supplies! It’s the king.”
Then a cloud of green gas hit him and he passed out, but not before noticing the cave was full of bats.

When the king awoke, he was on the top balcony of the Prentika Crown Castle. He turned around and took in the carved gargoyles and roof. The gold lettering of the ancient crown wisdom shone in the light. Blood-red torches hung on the walls of the long corridors as the king slowly walked forward, his pearl-silver armor outshone by that of the crown knights who walked down the twisting maze past him. The once jolly halls were filled with signs of the war outside. Where peasants once sung, crown knights stood in groups, holding spears. The king was glad that his own nearby castle, situated on a hill, was not like this. In his castle, peasants and nobles walked freely like equals. City-dwellers and merchants were the only ones who did not fit in to the ancient castle. They were isolated there from the nearby cities, which were coated in smoke from all the technological advances. They had moved forward too quickly, advancing tech beyond what they could handle. They were not ready for all they had made and he doubted they ever would be. He sighed as he walked past the armed guards and toward the throne of the Emperor.

As he approached, King Samuel Thunder-Rider felt something was more wrong then ever with the emperor. He was pale and his eyes were dark except when a splash of red light appeared. The king sensed evil even this far off. The Emperor spoke in a cold, unemotional voice.
“Why have you come before me, Samuel Thunder-Rider, current ruler of the land of Prentika?”
“I have come to warn you! The armies have fallen! The Orks and Skulls are coming! We shall be besieged before nightfall!”

The Emperor smiled and began to laugh. The red light in his eyes increased as he stood from his throne, still laughing. He walked slowly, like a madmen or a monster. The king was frozen by fear. At last, the Emperor stopped just in front of him and drew out a knife. Then he smiled, a kind smile, and the red was gone from his eyes. He continued laughing, but it was now a jolly laugh.
“Did you seriously think I would kill you, Samuel?”
The king joined in the laughter as well. The emperor grasped his shoulder. And then he stabbed him in the stomach. The king was dead not long after he hit the ground.

Next: The King is dead, long live live the King!

Last edited by King of the West on Thu May 15, 2008 8:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.

I don't have to time to read the whole thing, but from what I've read, its not bad. I was never a fan of Lego themed inspired stories. I guess that is just my personal prejudice. It seems to be coming along quite well.

PS: Don't expect reviews. It takes time to read stories online, that many people don't have.

P.I

Thomas C."Sow a thought, reap an action;Sow an action, reap a habit.Sow a habit, reap a character.Sow a character, reap a destiny"

A few hints toward the rest of the story:
Prentika will soon be independent no more.
Dragon knights are coming.
The Bat-like knight will return.
The king's story is not done.
Kings do not live long in Prentika.

Book two: The king is dead, long live the king
The king’s mind drifted as he saw himself at the feet of the maniacal ruler, blood spilling from a stomach wound. A voice spoke to him in his mind. DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR VOW, KING OF PRENTIKA? Images flashed through his mind as he felt himself being drawn back to his corpse. His time was not yet over. His destiny was not yet fulfilled. He still had a job to complete.

When the king was fully conscious again, he found himself looking merely like a skeleton in the silver armor of a king or high-ranking knight. He looked around to see where he was, his skull turning on his visible vertebrae. Since he was still alive, he still had a duty to Prentika to complete. But what was it?
Meanwhile, the castle of Prentika was under attack. The walls were lined with Elven archers, all firing non-stop at the approaching army. Many of the warriors fighting at the gates had fallen already and the castle’s future was being doubted. The skeleton armies charged first, scaling walls and killing the archers and men manning the catapult. As the forces above were challenged and killed, the trolls charged and hit the doors and walls hard with their clubs and pikes. Against the inside of the door, soldiers shoved furniture and siege engines, strengthening it. For a few minutes, it held. Then came a roar and the doors burst into flame. Through the fire came black skeletons, indestructible within the flame. The knights slowly were backed into a corner, the fire and its knights approaching. Suddenly, a bat-like shape appeared in the fire, slicing through the dark warriors. As the creatures of the night fought, the nights exited the building and ran toward the dramatic crown castle. Even as they ran, the ground shook and the castle began to fall. It hit the ground, crushing all the dwarf mines beneath it. The earthquake hit the crown castle too, but it stayed in place, not destroyed by the disaster. Within the earth, the dwarves ran as their complex mining structures collapsed. Thousands of dwarves fell as the tunnel floors collapsed, everything they had worked for swallowed up by the earth. Their fortunes and friends destroyed, the remaining dwarf warriors marched in silence toward the crown castle.

In the Forests surrounding the Western Kingdom, the Forest men stirred. Archers popped out of trees, horse lords rode through the forest blowing trumpets. The shields of Horse, Unicorn, and Elk were raised as the rebels of the world circled their forest home, searching for the hordes. Many times, across the stream, they spotted elves riding in suits of blue or green, their crescent moon shields shining. They took no notice of the camouflaged men of the forest and their horse-lords. The forces of the Earth were on the move.
In his dark cottage, the wizard Majisto stirred. His white robes shone as he raised his staff and spoke his ancient chant. Lights twirled around the room as his allies took form. Soon, the room was filled with magic users from across the Earth. Majisto stood in the center and addressed the council of Wizards.
“Wizards of this earth, I call you forth to discuss the advance of shadows from the dark mountain. Does anyone have any advice?”
One druid spoke up. “Majisto, have you checked the balance of the magic flow?”
“Naturally.”
A wizard dressed in all black spoke up. “I believe that this assault will have a negative effect on our magic levels. I propose that we find an artifact that will increase our power and return balance to the magic flow. I suggest the Ark.”
The druid burst out laughing. “What herbs have you been brewing?”
“None, actually. I find herbs to be boring. Besides, why couldn’t we find the ark?”
“Because we have no clue where its hidden or might I add, if it exists.”
“I happen to know it exists. I’ve seen it.”
“And how do you propose to find it?”
“They say that those with the blood of Thunder are born adventurers.”
“King Thunder is dead!”
“But the house of Thunder is not.”
Majisto listened as the wizard and druid debated until he could stand it no more. “SILENCE!” he cried.
The council fell quiet. Majisto took a deep breath. “I will permit the black wizard to go ahead with his search.”

The elf-king rode along the winding river headed for Prentika. He held his sword close to his side. Soon his people would be at the city and they would be able to repay their old debt. It had been many years since he had been saved…

The half-elf, Takeshi Blood-hair, clung to the wall of a fortress as his city traveled upward at incredible speeds. The top of the mountain had already pierced the atmosphere and fire traveled down toward him. He did not know what to do. He could not go up, he would die as soon as he reached the fire. He could not go down, he would be killed on the sharp rocks. Just as he was sure this was the end, a panel opened in the wall right next to him. Weakened and exhausted, the elf climbed in, his red suit in tatters, his face covered in scars. As soon as he was in, the panel swung shut. He looked to see who had saved him, and what he saw amazed him. He had been saved by the King of Prentika.
Over the next hundred years, Takeshi Blood-hair grew in power, moving through ranks in both army and kingdom. It was not long before he was the leader of the elves’ armed forces and the prince of the tribe. When the king was slain in battle with Orks, he became the king of his tribe. He used his hundred years of experience to rule his kingdom wisely. But he never forget his debt to the kings of Prentika…

Within the dark, stormy Mount Drake, hundreds of goblins and Skeletons obey orders in silence. They work like slaves for the man who stands above them. His red robes flow around him, his long beard goes down to his toes. One of his eyes is gone, replaced by a red orb. His face is grim. He watches over the world, prepared to see it fall.
King Samuel Thunder stumbled along, looking for the army that was approaching the city. His bones were all exposed and bleached, to his allies he would appear an enemy. He felt fatigue in his bones as they strained to carry him up a hill. The king gritted his teeth as he realized that the only thing keeping him moving was his oath. As soon as he fulfilled it, he would collapse and die.

The Black Skeleton Lord stood at the head of his horde, addressing them in a strange language. As he spoke in this strange tongue, he felt something odd. He sensed his own doom.
King Samuel Thunder stumbled on a rock as he approached the area where the horde was camped. If I can’t die then I’ll be able to kill a sizable fraction of the horde and that may give the Prentikan Army an edge, he thought as he saw the flags of the horde waving over the top of an area of burnt trees. Prepare to die, foul beasts of the pit!

The Black Skeleton Lord stood at the entrance to the horde’s camp. He would not allow this thing he sensed to enter.

Samuel saw a dark figure standing in front of the red light of the encampment. He clasped his sword in his hand and leaped down into the red light.

The Skeleton Lord’s eyes glowed as he launched himself at the undead king flying down toward him. Both warriors met in midair and they savagely stabbed at each other. Neither could harm the other. As he fell to the ground, King Samuel noticed a skull-marked metal charm imbedded in the armor. He raised his blade high and stabbed through the armor and the charm. Blasts of red light shone out, blasting the king. The undead ex-ruler felt his life-force leave him as he stared at the slowly disintegrating dark lord beneath his feet. His destiny was fulfilled, his duty done. King Samuel Thunder’s eyes went dark and he fell, dead.

Last edited by King of the West on Thu May 15, 2008 9:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Book three: The rise of Prentika?
The King’s body was found and buried the following morning. He lay at last in the tombs of his ancestors. His funeral was attended by many, yet it was short as the horde waited outside the giant gates. Across Prentika, flags lowered to half-mast in his honor. Men, Elves, and Dwarves all paid their respects to the heroic king who had no doubt saved them from a massive attack. The king was dead. An era had died with him.

The Black Wizard whistled as he teleported himself from the funeral of the king and into the dimly lit Adventurer’s Club. It was dimly lit and smelled bad. Well, I anticipated that they wouldn’t be ones for cleaning, the Black Wizard thought. He waved his jeweled staff and the room was brightly lit and the smell was gone. Continuing his whistling, the wizard looked around the club. The club contained few people, most of whom were at the bar until the next presentation. Using his magic, the wizard summoned a drink and dropped a few gold coins in the barkeeper’s moneybox. Sipping it, he studied the people at the bar. None of them seemed to match the description of a Thunder. He sighed. He’d failed to find one the relatives of the king. At least I can finish my drink. He thought as he sat down on a stool. After his fifth drink, an idea came into his head. He could ask one of the people around him if they knew any Thunders! Of course, being drunk didn’t exactly help his motor skills. After he had stuttered for about five minutes, he remembered he was a wizard and could make himself normal upon command. About ten minutes later, he had correctly remembered how to do it. At last, he spoke in a clear voice to the people sitting next to him at the bar.
“Do you know anyone called Thunder?”
Everyone stared at him for a few minutes before one man spoke up.
“You must be b***** joking! Everyone knows Thunder!”
“Where can I find him?”
“Which one? There’s ‘undreds of them!”
“The most adventurous. Oh, and while you’re at it, find me the best to rule the kingdom.”
“Well, I suggest for most adventurous, you go to Young Carmine. For your king, I’m not sure. Don’t know any kingly Thunders.”
“Right. Thanks for your help. Here, have a couple gold coins. Buy yourself something.”

A short while later, the Black Wizard exited the club, his dark robes flowing. He waved his staff and was soon in a small building deep within the icy mountains. Before him stood a young man with black hair, a mustache, and an odd hat, perfectly fitting the description of the Thunders he had been given. So this was Carmine. In a deep and mysterious voice, the wizard told the young hero of his task. Carmine nodded and grabbed his tools and map. He stepped out of his cabin and into his future.
Gleon Iron-clad Thunder was deep within the dwarves’ mines, checking for survivors of the accident. He had been with the dwarves for four years now, learning from them what he needed to be a good king. If all had gone according to plan, he would be with the elves this afternoon. But his father was killed and the mines had collapsed. Until this morning, he had been trapped in a tunnel with eight dwarves. When he had been freed, the dwarves had told him about his father. By birth, he was not of the royal bloodline, having been adopted by the king and appointed secretly as his heir when he was about five years old. He had been kept a secret, so as to avoid an attempted assassination by the Emperor. If anyone had known about him, he would soon be placed upon the throne. He had already marked his map with his immediate plans and prepared his acceptance speech. Prentika’s youngest king was ready for his destiny.

The Black Wizard appeared in the Mines of Ankoria in a puff of smoke. It had taken him a long time to find mention of the king’s heir in the royal records. Time they did not have. He quickly probed the nearest dwarf’s mind for the location of the secret prince. Once he had it, he waved his staff again and was soon standing behind Gleon. The Prince smiled. “I have been waiting for you.”

An hour later, Gleon Thunder sat upon the red royal throne of Prentika. The Arch-bishop of Crown castle stood next to him, slowly lowering the crown onto his head. When it was firmly in place, the new king stood upon the great tower of crown castle and flashed his golden sword. He began to speak.
“People of Prentika, we stand upon the threshold of a new era! No more shall we be a small quiet people. Gone are the days of my father and grandfather! The new era has come! We return to the golden days of old! We are the shapers of tomorrow! The reign of the Western and Eastern powers is falling! Who is better than us to take their place? I need nothing but your support, my subjects, to make us the greatest of all world powers!”
A cheer came up from the crowd as the king sat down upon his throne again. The golden days had returned. But inside the halls of the castle, his fingers tightly gripping his throne, one man was not happy. His last ounce of sanity had left him. The Emperor rose, his face a mask to the rage that filled him inside. He pulled a dark rod from the inside of his robes and traced a circle on the floor. It was soon filled with red light and mist as a dark figure in dragon-like gold armor formed in front of his eyes. The dark Emperor smiled and said in a quiet, creepy voice only two words. “My lord…”

King Gleon Thunder stood in front of a giant map of the western and eastern empires. He placed small figures on it, demonstrating his plan to the assembled senate. The Black Wizard gasped under his breath. The King was planning a Prentikan conquest of the earth…

It was night at the dark tower upon Mount Drake. Skeletons poured out of the earth, surrounded by Goblins and nomadic tribes of Orks and men. The Red Robed Necromancer watched them as they trained in darkness, lit only by red fire from the tower’s torches. Suddenly, a blur of red, gold, and black flashed between them and leaped into the air, riding upon a small dragon. The mysterious figure landed on the necromancer’s tower and spoke in a deep voice.
“I have come, Ruler of Mount Drake. I promise you my aid in the attack on crown castle.”
“Why this sudden change in attitude?”
The gold-armored warrior’s voice dropped to a chilling, horrifying whisper.
“The King has a son.”

The borders of the Dragon Empire have been called the most powerful in the world. Whoever said that had never seen a combined army of Prentikans and forest-men before. King Gleon and the leader of the forest-men each had addressed their men earlier on what to do during the assault on the wall. Archers stood skillfully in the trees, ready to loose their bows as soon as King Gleon gave his signal. Hundreds, if not thousands of Prentikan troops waited just inside the forest, ready to make a full-scale assault on the gates. Dwarves had, reluctantly, made tunnels under the walls and filled them with explosive chemicals. The dwarves’ chief had argued with Gleon for hours over the placement of the packages of explosives. At the end of the argument, the king and dwarf compromised and placed the weapons halfway between the desired sites of the king and the desired sites of the dwarf. However, the dwarf still doubted that the battle would be entirely safe for the king’s soldiers, but his thoughts were silenced as King Gleon blew his horn and the royal banners raised.

The horn awoke the sleeping guards who lay atop the walls of the battlements. They immediately stood up, weapons at the ready, expecting only a small barbarian group. Suddenly, millions of arrows blasted at them, leaving not one soldier on the wall alive. Prentikans charged at the gates, holding battering rams and riding horses. Catapults hurled stones onto the enemy waiting behind the walls. At last, the army burst though the gates, assembled against the empire. Then, the explosives went off.

A short while later, the Prentikan army stood on one side of a giant crater and the Dragon Empire stood on the other. Many soldiers from both armies had been lost. The Dragon army’s leader walked forward and spat at the Prentikans. In the strange language of his country he swore and then said a few words.
“The Emperor will hear of this, barbarians!”
With that he turned and walked off, this rest of his army following him. Immediately, the forest-men threw rope bridges across the abyss, taking bold steps forward into a new land. As soon as they reached the other side, the Prentikans moved toward the bridges, yet as they did, the Forest-men cut them. The army turned, depressed and walked back toward Prentika. They had failed to capture the enemy lands. All they had succeeded in doing was angering the largest empire in the world.

The Necromancer stood in the center of an ancient circle of stones. He spoke a strange spell and the sky turned black. Lightning struck the ground, and from it emerged monsters and beings of black magic. The Necromancer’s red eye glowed as he rose in the air, high above his new and all-powerful army.

King Gleon walked, defeated, through the front gates of Crown Castle. His golden horn hung from his side, tarnished from the weeks of walking through mud and battlefields. How could the battle have gone so wrong? He had planned every detail in advance, calculated the exact positions of the bombs, and made peace with the forest-men. Yet the plan had failed, the bombs had blown up part of his army and the forest-men had betrayed him. When he had left this city, he had been a hero. Now, as he returned, he was a fool. Upstairs, the Emperor watched from his window and smiled.

Inside The Crown Inn, the Black Wizard sat, drinking his twenty-first drink. Across the table from him sat the druid of the forestlands, bragging about the work of his people at the battle. The Black Wizard felt anger rising up as the druid talked on and on about the Prentikans incompetence. He dropped his cup and the floor and began screaming at the overconfident barbarian.
‘You b***** barbarian son of an uncultured pig! I lost friends in that battle!”
With that he waved his staff at the barbarian, blasting him with pure magical energy. The druid screamed and collapsed to the ground, twitching. No one in the whole Inn was able to move out of their extreme shock, just allowing the Black Wizard to walk out of the door with no resistance at all. As soon as he had left, he walked straight toward an old cottage outside of the town. Majisto would know what to do.

The wizard Majisto stood in silence. Dark times are coming. We must be ready for them.

Book four: The Dark Lord The Black Wizard ran through the streets of Prentika, pursued by the entire city watch. He suddenly stopped and turned around, killing all of them with a wave of his staff. At last, he reached the outskirts of the forest. No one’s likely to follow me in here. He thought. Yet as he walked, he was unaware of many eyes watching him from behind the cover of the trees.

King Gleon kneeled before a giant figure, lit in a circle of lights. He spoke only two words, but those words meant more than they said. “I…failed.”

Deep beneath the city of Prentika, Carmine Thunder pushed aside a large panel. He found himself inside a completely blank room. No matter, he thought as he poured his container of liquid fire on the floor. I know how to see hidden messages on walls. When the fire had completely burned across all the walls, he looked over them again. Now, he saw writing on the walls. He quickly translated it from the tongues of the Far East into the native language of most of the western world. It read as follows: He, who enters this room, shall not exit out by the doors to the world. He shall exit through the gates to the afterlife. Carmine swore as giant scorpions and snakes fell through the roof toward him and the panel swung shut. Barbarian scum.

The Black Wizard flung open the door to Majisto’s hut. Majisto stood, his bright robes flowing, his expression tired.
“What is it this time, my friend?”
“At the Inn…”
“What was it this time? Another bar-fight with someone who turned out to be a prince? Ran out of money again and tried to hypnotize the bar-keeper?”
“No. It was the Druid…”
Majisto’s face became dark and serious as he sensed something in his connection to the magic fields.
“You killed him.”
“I didn’t mean to! I lost control!”
Majisto drew his sword and pointed it at the wizard’s throat.
“Before now, I have helped you, old friend. But now, you’ve crossed a line. A line that I cannot.”
“Then I am sorry I had to do this.”
The Black Wizard waved his staff and blasted Majisto with a bolt of lightning. The brightly robed wizard crashed against the wall, which burst into flame from the energy. Soon the entire cottage was nothing but a pile of ash and rubble. Turning his bearded head, the Black robed Wizard looked sadly over his shoulder as he walked away. I am sorry, old friend but I could not let you stop me.
Carmine Thunder stood quietly in the chamber now filled up to his neck in scorpions and snakes. He felt a snake sliver across his throat and cringed. I hope someone or something comes and rescues me soon, because right now I’ve probably got about two more minutes before something kills me. Suddenly, the room was filled with a bright light and the snakes and scorpions burst into flame. Surprisingly, Carmine himself was pretty much unharmed by the burst of mysterious energy. As he stood in the center of the room, he heard a noise like wood snapping and the wall in front of him was split into fourths. From the room beyond it, the light continued, increasing as Carmine stepped forward and toward his goal, the gold-coated Ark.

Gleon Thunder stood once more upon the high tower above his subjects. Before, he had faced people who were eager to accept their new king. Now, he faced families and friends of people who were killed in a foolish battle he had led. To these people, he might as well have shot the soldiers dead himself. He began to speak.
“My subjects, first of all, I wish to apologize for my uncalculated and insane attack on the Dragon Empire. I do not expect you to understand why I made this mistake. I only wish for your forgiveness.”
For five long seconds, the crowd remained quite and nothing other than a whisper was heard. Then, the crowds began to cheer for their king and began once more to trust him. Later, Gleon would learn that it was only these few words that saved him from execution by the Prentikan councils. As soon they were silent once more, the king continued his speech.
“However, my grave mistake has led to a very serious problem. We are now at war with one of the most powerful countries in the world. I do not know if we can hold them off, even if the crowns ally with us. I am asking each of you to help me. Only together can we fend off this threat to our world!”
As he spoke, the large back gates of the castle swung open and in marched a clan of Elven troops. Their leader dismounted his horse and did a series of flips to get up to the platform where the king stood.
“I have come to repay a debt I owe to your ancestors. I am the lord of these elves and at your command, I will lead them to help you.”
King Gleon nodded and thanked the elf-lord as another party of troops on horseback rode in. Gleon scowled as he saw the horse-emblem on their banners. They were the Barraki Phantoka, a clan of forest-men whose name literally meant Warlords of air-spirits. These people were horse-breeders and dedicated to honest war, a contrast to their allies who mostly walked on foot or in trees and tended to favor less honorable tactics. Why had they come here? The group’s young, noble-looking leader soon answered the people’s unspoken question.
“You should not have assumed that you were betrayed so quickly, my lord. It was all a trick to make the enemy think that you had failed. Now listen closely. We have found another way into the Empire and this time it will lead you straight to fortress of the emperor…”

The staff of the black-robed wizard struck three times against the heavy iron gates of the Dwarf mine. With a burst of air, they swung inward as he walked forward into the darkness. A darkness from which he knew he would not return…

Gleon Thunder walked quietly through the night, his remaining army in tow. The Barraki Phantoka rode next to him, making no noise despite their huge horses. They had been marching for three days when the horse-lords gestured to a small narrow path cutting through the middle of a clump of trees. Suddenly, a small group of forest-men came running out toward them. They were burned and covered in scratches. The nomads only uttered two words, but they repeated them over and over again.
“Dragon soldiers.”

The Black Wizard poured a vial of ashes into a dark, deep, green lake. The chemicals inside it bubbled as ashes floated round and round before finally sinking. A bright glow suddenly shot out of the middle of the lake as a tall man in dark robes and a small, neat beard rose out of the vile liquids. The Black Wizard bowed low before him.

Gleon walked hesitantly ahead on the path on which he had embarked. Suddenly, he realized something and turned around. Yet his thought came too late, for the forest-men had already released their arrows, striking King Gleon dead. The leader of the Horse-lords smiled. The elves and knights stood shocked at this treachery. However, their shock soon faded as they charged upon the forest-men, even as the soldiers of the dragon empire ran out to face them.

After what seemed like hours, the dark man spoke. “Rise, my servant.”
The Black Wizard rose. “Why have you called upon me?”
“My lord, the world has come to darkness! Humanity has polluted it, covered it in blood and war. It must be cleansed of the disease of civilization that besieges it! Humanity must fall!”
“I agree, my dear wizard. And so, I must call my allies to me.”
Suddenly, the room began to fill with creatures of the horde. The Black Wizard smiled. Tonight, the plague of humanity would be no more.

The wizard Majisto, burnt but alive, climbed out of the remains of his hut and tried to sense what would occur due to this strange turn of events. He sensed death.

Carmine Thunder stood, staring at his golden treasure. Its complex gold runes seemed to cry out to him, telling him of the darkness to come. Finally, they rearranged themselves to spell to simple Dwarfish words: It begins. Suddenly, the walls behind him caved in, revealing the Black Wizard, the Dark Lord, and their huge horde. Carmine drew his sword.
“I know now what you plan to do. The ark has told me. And if you think I’m going to stand by and watch while you do it, think again!”
The young hero charged forward slicing through the horde. The Black Wizard raised his staff and quickly fired a bolt of fire at the adventurer, knocking him off his feet. Carmine looked up at him and began begging for the world. The Black Wizard merely knocked him aside and walked toward the Ark. Just as he reached it, there was a flash of light and Majisto appeared before him, holding a sword.
“You fool! You have no right to condemn an entire world for the choices of several fools!”
“I must. For otherwise, it shall fall into shadow.”
“You are delivering it into shadow!”
“No. I am cleansing it!” Said The Black Wizard, at this point trying to convince himself as much as Majisto.
“It is your choice, my friend.”
The Black Wizard thought and made his choice. He flung open the ark.

EpilogueMajisto stood sadly as the body of The Black Wizard was lowered into the ground. The heroic wizard had given his life to save the world from the Dark Lord. Majisto and Carmine had barely escaped with their lives. The conflict between Prentika and the Forest-men had ended when they found that the world had almost been destroyed due to their wars. The War in the west waged on, but Majisto doubted it would ever stop. The corrupt Emperor’s crimes were revealed and he had been executed earlier that morning. Even after the wizard’s other mourners had left, Majisto and Carmine remained behind. It was then that Carmine asked the question he had almost always wanted to ask.
“Do you think the Dark Lord was right? Does humanity deserve nothing more than death?”
“Maybe. But I do not think we have the right to judge that ourselves.”